(no subject)
Yesterday: Went to the cafe in the old public toilets to meet Budgie, who was delighted by the location and then GRIEVOUSLY INSULTED ME by describing The Renaka Device as "Hemmingwayesque", which is clearly the nastiest thing anyone has said since the influx of people consistently saying my poetry reminded them of Eliot finally dried up. But I had a biscuit, so it's okay.
(Also HIGH DRAMA as I tried to buy an apple from Tesco but the self-service tills only acknowledge the existence of bananas, and the one remaining cashier loudly lamented THIS IS WHAT WE WERE HERE FOR. I HATE THESE THINGS. THEY'RE SO STUPID. GRARGGGHHHHH.)
Also I spent an unexpectedly large amount of money in the Scandinavian Kitchen, but still less than it would have been had I allowed myself free rein, oh lord. Too many things. Too much Scandi Christmas Crap (Things I Actually Grew Up With. I bought Lindsay a marzipan pig to celebrate. PIG. FINALLY A PIG.)
Went to a pub after the cafe, which Budgie informed me is basically The BBC Radio Writers' Pub and has been since the days of the Goon Show. A Slice of History, there, much like being reminded that the RVT, where Duckie is, is also a place that used to have Freddy Mercury and Kenny Everett among its regulars, you know, back before AIDS killed everyone.
Budgie decided to horrify me by telling me about ALL THE THINGS A PRESIDENT CAN PARDON someone for, like, oh, MURDERING A WITNESS etc.; he's not normally the most flappable of people so having him admit he's straight-up terrified of the future was not inherently calming. I did also scream at him for mentioning Reagan by name, admittedly. Not on my best form. Also scared the barmaid by asking to borrow a knife, then having to explain it was for the purpose of cutting Stollen. Uh. "Thank you for accommodating what I now realise was, in hindsight, a very odd and slightly worrying request."
Caught up on Planet Earth 2, so that I could enjoy IBEX RELATED TERROR (I don't like heights: the Mountain episode was not a good time for my adrenal glands), and today I go to enjoy Ghostwatch, a classic of British Halloween viewing, in the company of pals; happily as I am far too frightened of things that provably exist (America, for example, or my family) I've never been much moved to accommodate a belief in the supernatural, so this should be fun, rather than, as apparently people thought when it was first broadcast, "pants-shittingly terrifying".
Tomorrow I go to meet my friend Rachel, whom I see approximately once a year and who I last made dress up as a biker nun in a museum (she lives in Salisbury and tends to Get Lost easily in London which is a minor frustration, obviously, as I have a cast-iron lack of regard for things like "other people didn't commit an entire two zones of a very busy city to memory"). I still haven't called the dentist to make an appointment because when I asked about changing my details they said I'd have to do it in person and I don't know how up to dealing with that level of awkwardness I am right now. My face is still rotting, though, and my lungs are also full of plague mucus, and my ear is Very Painful.
However, today it DID also occur to me for the first time that it's entirely possible that my in-laws do not, in fact, utterly hate me, and view me as a horrible experience they are forced to suffer through annually. I mean, they have actually never given me any indication of this to my face, and I've known them for thirteen years, so you'd think if they were that horrified by the prospect of my company for two days out of every 365 they might have gently suggested to Lindsay that I take a break from visiting. By now. You know.
(Also HIGH DRAMA as I tried to buy an apple from Tesco but the self-service tills only acknowledge the existence of bananas, and the one remaining cashier loudly lamented THIS IS WHAT WE WERE HERE FOR. I HATE THESE THINGS. THEY'RE SO STUPID. GRARGGGHHHHH.)
Also I spent an unexpectedly large amount of money in the Scandinavian Kitchen, but still less than it would have been had I allowed myself free rein, oh lord. Too many things. Too much Scandi Christmas Crap (Things I Actually Grew Up With. I bought Lindsay a marzipan pig to celebrate. PIG. FINALLY A PIG.)
Went to a pub after the cafe, which Budgie informed me is basically The BBC Radio Writers' Pub and has been since the days of the Goon Show. A Slice of History, there, much like being reminded that the RVT, where Duckie is, is also a place that used to have Freddy Mercury and Kenny Everett among its regulars, you know, back before AIDS killed everyone.
Budgie decided to horrify me by telling me about ALL THE THINGS A PRESIDENT CAN PARDON someone for, like, oh, MURDERING A WITNESS etc.; he's not normally the most flappable of people so having him admit he's straight-up terrified of the future was not inherently calming. I did also scream at him for mentioning Reagan by name, admittedly. Not on my best form. Also scared the barmaid by asking to borrow a knife, then having to explain it was for the purpose of cutting Stollen. Uh. "Thank you for accommodating what I now realise was, in hindsight, a very odd and slightly worrying request."
Caught up on Planet Earth 2, so that I could enjoy IBEX RELATED TERROR (I don't like heights: the Mountain episode was not a good time for my adrenal glands), and today I go to enjoy Ghostwatch, a classic of British Halloween viewing, in the company of pals; happily as I am far too frightened of things that provably exist (America, for example, or my family) I've never been much moved to accommodate a belief in the supernatural, so this should be fun, rather than, as apparently people thought when it was first broadcast, "pants-shittingly terrifying".
Tomorrow I go to meet my friend Rachel, whom I see approximately once a year and who I last made dress up as a biker nun in a museum (she lives in Salisbury and tends to Get Lost easily in London which is a minor frustration, obviously, as I have a cast-iron lack of regard for things like "other people didn't commit an entire two zones of a very busy city to memory"). I still haven't called the dentist to make an appointment because when I asked about changing my details they said I'd have to do it in person and I don't know how up to dealing with that level of awkwardness I am right now. My face is still rotting, though, and my lungs are also full of plague mucus, and my ear is Very Painful.
However, today it DID also occur to me for the first time that it's entirely possible that my in-laws do not, in fact, utterly hate me, and view me as a horrible experience they are forced to suffer through annually. I mean, they have actually never given me any indication of this to my face, and I've known them for thirteen years, so you'd think if they were that horrified by the prospect of my company for two days out of every 365 they might have gently suggested to Lindsay that I take a break from visiting. By now. You know.